


Words

by xueyang



Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/Zero, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: A lot of these are AUs I have for diar, Gen, Honestly for the relationships, Just imagine any male servant, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-03-08 10:03:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13455930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xueyang/pseuds/xueyang
Summary: I started a mini challenge for myself and never finished but I thought I would post it anyway! Please enjoy.





	Words

**Comfort**

  
Roses brought Diarmuid a certain type of comfort. They reminded him of the days ladies would walk up to him with blushing red cheeks and shy smiles, asking for his hand in a dance; but they also reminded him of the battlefield, blood dripping off spear, sword, and arrow alike in a slow dance, captivating yet painful. He knew he enjoyed the battlefield much more, but the women would always be a comforting familiarity, reminding him of his curse and that he, himself, truly was real and not some off-brand copy of his former self.

  
**Kiss**

  
Rain was something that happened to show itself often in his home known as Ireland. It was cold and unforgiving on the worst of days and warm and soothing on the best of them. He remembered the day the first man to show him attraction had come up, smelling of alcohol and smoke, and kissed him with a certain determined purpose. The taste of rain had overpowered even the bitter taste of smoke, and left Diarmuid wanting another, perhaps longer, kiss from the strange man. As soon as Diarmuid’s eyes had fluttered open, though, the man was racing away down the street, leaving Diarmuid confused and breathless.

  
**Soft**

  
His fingers were buried into the soft fabric of his favorite blanket as the familiar sound of screams were heard outside once more. A lady, then a man, a child’s belated gurgle and then the howling of a dog. Murderer. The ugly word flashes behind his closed eyelids so he buries his face further into his pillow, his hands clutching tighter around his blanket. A silent promise to become the people’s protector blooms in the back of his mind before he succumbs to the seduction of a dreamless sleep.

  
**Pain**

  
An archer in a red coat sat perched in a tree 5 kilometers away, he could sense their eyes on him. His master lay before him, bleeding out slowly and cursing all the while. His airway felt trapped. Forcing air in and out seemed a heavier labor than that of climbing the tallest mountain. Wheezes slipped from between his lips when another shot of pain blossomed in his right hip. An arrow, expertly shot, poked out of his flesh, a grueling sight if you were unfortunate enough to witness it. Diarmuid fought to stay standing, fought to stay conscious until the last of his mana was stripped away and he was no longer able to manifest in his masters presence any longer. The hate that was radiating from his master, though, was so strong and pungent that even he was surprised he was able to stand his ground. 3 minutes and 42 seconds later, his form lost all shape and he was once again thrown back into the oblivion that was the Throne of Heroes.

  
**Potatoes**

  
Slicing potatoes wasn’t the most fun Diarmuid had ever had. Cú Chulainn had won against him in a bet - involving a certain King of Heroes and King of Knights - and as his punishment, he was forced to peel 100 potatoes. He really didn’t think Arturia would allow Gilgamesh anywhere near her, let alone talk to her for longer than a few seconds. Of course it ended in the way Diarmuid figured - a sword to the ancient King’s throat and a loud threat of beheading falling from Arturia’s lips. He supposed he should’ve known, though. Arturia wasn’t mean, and wouldn’t completely cut off someone even if she despised them.

  
**Rain**

  
Water droplets cascade down the windows in a silent race, creating patterns and shapes in the see-through lines they created. Diarmuid’s eyes narrowed as he focused on the rain, trying to ignore what was going on on the other side of the glass. His master was trying to steal from a local convenience store, shoving what he considered valuable down his thick jacket. With a sigh, Diarmuid sat back and closed his eyes. This had to be a sick joke. His newest master was disgusting, a simple disappointment to the former knight. He stole and drank until he was under a table, not caring about the mess he made or who was forced to clean it up. He gave no regard to the people suffering around him, not even his Servant who happened to be the one most often cleaning up his messes nowadays. A ‘thank you’ or a ‘sorry’ never left his master’s lips and Diarmuid was slowly growing tired of it. “Just a while longer.” He whispered to himself before his master threw open the driver side door and they were speeding off down the road once again.

  
**Chocolate**

  
It tasted like a weird mix of bitterness and sugar, but looked like literal shit. Gilgamesh stood in front of him, arms folded and cocky smile in place as always, awaiting his answer and rating on the food he now understood was called “chocolate”. “I mean... it’s okay.” Diarmuid trailed off, taking another bite out of curiosity. Gilgamesh huffed and muttered a quiet curse before answering, “Is it too bitter or too sweet?” “I’d say too bitter... but I’m not our master, am I?” Diarmuid’s words were meant to sound more confused than annoyed but the flash of anger that appeared on the king’s face told him quickly how he interpreted it. Quickly, he gathered his sweater and other belongings, trying to hurry away from what he knew would be an onslaught of horrible taste testings and loud lectures, before chains whipped out and latched onto his legs and arms. He was trapped.

  
**Happiness**

  
In Diarmuid’s life, the feeling of joy had always been fleeting. He felt joy when he saw gardens of flowers. He felt joy when the sound of loud cheers erupted in the beer hall after a fight was won. Both of these things brought him immense joy, but they always faded after a few minutes or hours. He knew it probably had to do with his poor luck and cursed beauty mark, but he always wanted to feel happy for a while. Now, with his back resting against his lover, tears of joy just barely kept from sliding down his cheeks, he could confidently say he has been genuinely happy for a while. A soft mumble and his sun and stars pulled him closer, burying his face into Diarmuid’s unruly locks. “Diar... go to sleep, my loyal knight.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope u enjoyed this!! I worked really hard on it lowkey


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